I asked for a split shot latte.
Simple enough, a request for a ‘half caf’ shot of espresso covered in steamed milk. Sometimes this drink is referred to as the ‘skitzo,’ which for some hits too close to home.
I heard stories that this Barista had once flipped out on a customer for ordering a ‘skitzo.’ His brother was in an institution, and the rudeness hit a little to close to home. The customer shot back describing his uncle in a metal institution. The Barista asked the guy to leave, citing if his brother was retarded, would he call his friends retards?
“But I just want a ‘split shot.’” I said to the Barista this morning. Almost taunting me, he rang up the purchase as a ‘double skitzo yummy in a glass.’ He knew I was walking on thin ice, even ordering a drink that brought up memories of him not liking people. He knew I knew of the story, and in this overly simplistic social interaction, was trying to mess with my under caffeinated mind.
‘Just a split shot, I’m not trying to be politicly incorrect here.’
We have a long history of random conversations when we both were not in good moods. Somehow we cheer each other up. A bond formed through 2 years of seeing each other in the ‘you give me coffee, I give you paper money’ kind of interconnection.
‘Well happy holidays to you.’
I passed over my $2.50 plus tip. Smiling, he handed me my change with some parting words, ‘a skitzo for the retard, and Merry Christmas’
So much love in the Holidays.
I wish you all the best.